Red Eyed Vixen
by vnsjvhgs
Summary: Adopted from CloudedMindx. Rose turns Strigoi on her mission to save Dimitri. She meets her Strigoi lover, and their nature gets the best of them. Swearing and sex. SK and BP spoilers. I don't own Vampire Academy.
1. Life's A Bitch

_Oh Boy. I wrote an author's note that said all that it needed to, and then I lost it. kihgfaigjnvd._

_I adopted this story from CloudedMindx. I didn't steal it. _

_This is how it's going to go . . . I write a chapter from the plans that CloudedMindx sent me, and then send it to her to look over, she sends it back, and then I post it on my account (:_

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Red eyes were not a nice thing to wake up to. As soon as my eyes had focused on Dimitri's Strigoi ones, my hands shot out and slammed against his chest as I hurriedly tried to put a little distance between us. I turned my eyes down as I shoved him away, not wanting, or needing to look at him any longer. My strength caught me off guard as he was knocked off of his feet, and by the look on his face, it had had the same effect on him. He laughed quietly as he pushed himself off of the ground.

"Roza," he murmured, his voice like liquid honey, "I've been waiting for you to open your eyes." He closed the space between us in two steps, and a warning growl ripped from my lips. Slowly, tauntingly, he ran the back of his finger down my cheek and smiled.

"You're still so soft . . . ."

I knocked his hand away and stumbled backwards. I allowed myself half a second to take in my surroundings and locate the doors and windows, and then returned my eyes to Dimitri.

I didn't doubt that he'd overpower me if I chose to fight him. Though I'd knocked him over earlier, I lacked the strength I'd need to take him down again and I'd left my stake back at my apartment anyway. I could only stay or run and neither looked too appealing.

If I stayed, I'd maybe regain a little clarity and later kill Dimitri, but I didn't think I'd be alive long enough to have the chance to do that. If I ran, I could potentially keep myself from death another day, but I didn't know what waited on the other side of those windows and doors. Either way, my chances of survival looked slim, almost non-existent. And that sucked.

"You look . . . troubled, Roza. Are you not pleased to see me?"

I took another step back and shook my head. Then it struck me. I really wasn't pleased to see him.

Upon regaining consciousness, Dimitri had only been another Strigoi to me, not the man who owned my heart and body. That revelation upset me a little. If Dimitri didn't own my heart, then who did? I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and concentrated on trying to establish my next move.

"You haven't killed me yet," I flinched at the sound of my raspy voice, "why?"

Dimitri frowned, "I don't want to kill you."

"I don't trust you."

"I'm not asking you to. But I'm not going to hurt you, Roza." His voice sounded so sincere I almost, almost thought he was telling the truth.

"Then what do you want?"

He stalked towards me, and whispered one word.

"You."

Dimitri tucked my hair behind my ear and slowly moved his mouth toward mine . . . and a little red light went off in my head. My knee collided with his groin at the same time my head crashed into his, and then I ran. I sprinted towards the door closest to me, not stopping to think about where it would lead me, or the chances of another Strigoi waiting on the other side of it. I tugged on the brass door knob and the door clicked open, and sparing a small glance over my shoulder, I found Dimitri leaning against the far wall, a smirk on his face and some unknown emotion blazing in his eyes. I didn't know why he wasn't running after me, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I turned away from him and bolted out of the room, and only let myself stop after the icy night air was the only thing surrounding me.

I looked down at my white cotton shorts, stained with someone's blood, and cursed. My top and trainers had survived, though I'd lost my keys and jacket somewhere along the way. The lost keys didn't bother me, seeing as I had no idea what direction my apartment was in, and how far it was.

Not wanting to stop any longer than I had to, I started to run again, and tried to ignore my throat's pleads for water. A little later I came across a narrow dirt road, and followed it to a small country town. I slowed down and wandered the streets, looking for a car that didn't have an alarm and that no one would miss. God must have loved me, because soon, a small red Toyota Corolla Hatchback came into view.

I tugged my top off and wrapped it around my fist, and then looked around for any movement before punching in the back window. I reached my hand in and unlocked the front door, and then slid into the car, and dropped my top onto the passenger's seat. I opened the glove compartment and sorted through its contents in search of a screwdriver. I didn't find one. I sighed and got out of the car, and then silently walked around to the back yard of the nearest house. The tin shed that stood in the corner of the yard looked helpful, and thankfully it wasn't locked. The moonlight that streamed through the window helped to locate a small toolbox on a shelf to my right, and I found a flat screwdriver relatively quickly.

Back in the car, I pushed the screwdriver into the ignition and turned, and then drove.

The little digital clock on the dashboard read 3:47 a.m. when the car rolled to a stop a few blocks away from my apartment complex. The three hour drive had been particularly painful, though I'd improved my-driving-while-map-reading skill. I reached over and snatched up my tank top and took the coins that sat on the dashboard, and then stumbled out of the car, and started the daunting walk home. All I wanted to do was cuddle up to my pillow and sleep for a day or two. I wasn't physically tired, but my mind was.

A few drunken men staggered by, reeking so strongly of alcohol that I started to feel a little tipsy, and none of them spared me a second glance like others so often did. I knew I looked like hell, covered in blood and dirt and God knows what else, so I started to walk faster, all the more eager to get in the safe confines of my apartment. They stopped at a pay phone three or four metres from the car I'd ditched and called for a cab to take them to another bar. Their slurred voices faded as I rounded a corner and stopped to pull my tank top over my head.

I'd started my walk home again when I remembered my lost keys. I couldn't get into my apartment without them, and I wasn't going to wait until morning to call the landlady to collect a spare. I didn't want a spare, either, I wanted the locks changed. Dimitri could have taken my keys, and if he didn't know where I lived already, it wouldn't take him much to find out. I knew that he could just knock my door down, but at least I'd feel a little safer with a new lock. My mind made up, I backtracked to the pay phone the men had been at, and pushed a coin into the slot. I dialled a twenty-four hour locksmith and told him I'd meet him outside my apartment in a half hour.

Once I'd finally made it to the front steps of my apartment complex, I thought of a failsafe excuse for the blood and mud covering my clothes. I'd gone for a run, slipped and rolled down a hill, catching my thigh on something sharp on the way. My keys had fallen on the way, and it'd been too dark for me to find them. I didn't have my phone with me, so I had to walk home, and it'd taken a long time because of my leg. The locksmith had to buy that. I sat down on the steps and dropped my head into my hands and waited.

A few minutes later, a red Cherokee turned down the street and parked a little down the road. A man emerged from the driver's door and started towards me, a toolbox in his hand and a small smile on his face. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and had inky black hair that stood up in all directions and dark grey eyes that looked black under the street lights. I got to my feet and shook the hand that he held out as he introduced himself as Logan Smalls. I tried to ignore his eyes that lingered on my chest and buzzed us into the building, and tried to make small talk as we made our way to my apartment. He didn't ask about the mess covering me, but I told him my cover story anyway, not wanting to let his mind have the chance to come up with any other potentially drastic scenarios.

Logan told me about his seven month old son and ex-fiancée as he worked on my door, and stopped at one point to show me a picture of the little chubby boy. The baby didn't look anything like him, though the cheeky half-smile that graced his son's face looked a lot like the one he had when he stepped out of his car. I'd handed him back his wallet and watched him play with the lock, and even offered to hand him his tools at one point. It took half an hour to take the lock out, and in that time I learned the name for nearly every tool he used, and a lot about his life. And then finally, he pushed my door open, and I breathed a sigh of relief as my couch came into sight. Logan said something about fitting the door with a new lock, and I moved towards the kitchen counter, my eyes locked on my phone. I snatched it off the counter and unlocked it, only to find an empty screen. No missed calls, no new messages. I scowled and put it down on the counter again.

Then, a muffled curse came from the behind me, and a loud thud as something hit the ground. I spun around, my thoughts running almost painfully through my head as my eyes sought out first the bloodied tool on the carpet, and then Logan, cradling his hand against his chest as profanity and profanity fell from his mouth. My lips parted and my eyes widened, and my nails clawed at my thighs, leaving angry red marks scattered across my skin. It was an all-consuming pain, one I would never in my life forget. It burned my throat, and I could only think of one thing.

Blood.

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_Review, pleeeease? (:_


	2. Awakened

His screams replayed in my head as I scrubbed his blood off of my skin, watching the scarlet coloured water pool around my feet in the white ceramic tub. I'd killed him. I'd killed a man, I'd taken him from his son, and none of that mattered.

I hastily dressed after my shower, throwing on a pair of black disco pants and a grey oversized t shirt with a big Batman logo on the front. I reached for my converse and stepped into them, then started throwing my most loved things into my red duffel bag. I needed to leave my apartment by dawn or I'd be trapped for another ten hours, and considering the body and amount of blood around my lockless door, that wasn't really an option. I pushed my damp curls out of my face and zipped my bag closed, and left it sitting on my bed as I walked to the kitchen to retrieve the emergency money I'd hid in plastic baggies at the back of the freezer.

I'd withdraw ten dollars from Adrian's cards daily and another fifty dollars every weekend to store as emergency money. I'd learned that cash was more helpful on the run, and in order for me to survive on the run, I'd need a lot of it. I didn't know how much I'd saved since I'd dropped out of St Vlad's, but the stacks of bills I pulled out of the freezer looked more than helpful. I dropped them into my bag, and then the cheap emergency phone I'd bought a month or two ago. I'd stop on my way out of town and transfer my contacts onto the emergency phone, and then ditch my cell phone somewhere, so I couldn't be traced by the police.

I moved to the bathroom and opened the medicine cupboard, and reached for the coloured contacts sitting on the top shelf. I didn't know if Strigoi could wear contacts, but it wouldn't stop me trying as soon as I stopped next. Snatching up my orange and blue nail polishes, I headed back to my room and threw everything in my bag.

Hauling my bag over my shoulder, I walked to the door and nudged the body out of the way with my foot. I tugged the door open and moved out into the hallway, and flinched as my shoes squelched in the blood I'd spilled in my hasty and very messy feeding session. I moved out of the puddle of the thick, dark liquid and took my shoes off, not wanting to leave bloodied footprints all down the hall. The thought hit me as I shut the door . . . I wasn't only leaving my apartment behind. I was leaving part of myself, too. My parents, my friends, they'd all think that Rosemarie Hathaway was gone. They'd look for her, I knew, but they'd never come close. And I found that I didn't care. I didn't care that I'd never see them again. I didn't care if they lived or died, or had children or got married. I didn't care at all.

I shook my head as I walked down the hall, as if the action would clear the thoughts from my head. It didn't. And the more I thought about my lack of emotion toward the people I formally loved, the antsier I got to feed again. I didn't know why, and I didn't think I wanted to know. My thoughts moved to Lissa and the bond. I hadn't tested the bond since I'd opened my eyes, due to the fact that I'd forgotten about it. I doubted it still worked, but I made a note to myself to try later anyway. I started down the stairs, and sat on the last step to put my shoes on, and then stood, taking in my apartment building one more time before stepping out onto the dark street.

It must have rained in the short time it'd taken me to kill Logan and leave my apartment, and the black pavement glittered under the street lights. The cold air blew my hair across my face and into my eyes, and I shoved it out of the way as I started down the street. I didn't know where I was going, so I made my way back to the Hatchback I'd ditched earlier and dropped my bag in the back. I started the car again and reversed out of the alleyway, and then took the back streets to the highway, listening to the Russian pop radio station that I'd tuned into after I'd stolen the little Toyota.

I remembered I'd packed my iPod an hour into my road trip. I pulled over to the side of the road and twisted around in my seat to dig through my bag. Of course, I only remembered I'd put it in the side pocket _after_ I'd tipped the contents of my duffel out, and with a loud sigh, I reached into the side pocket and took my iPod out, and then turned back to face the steering wheel and drove.

Singing along to 'beat of my Drum', I thought about what I'd have to do before I could stop and collect myself and figure out the whole Strigoi thing. After Logan's body had been found, I'd be a suspect, as it was my apartment he was murdered in. I didn't worry about the descriptions of myself that'd be released to the majority of Russia, considering that I was now a red eyed, pale, immortal bloodsucker, and looked a lot different to the old Rosemarie Hathaway. Then again, I didn't know how much different I looked. I didn't have a reflection. Identification aside, I'd need another name, background story, and apartment. And things to keep me occupied for the day hours that I'd spend out of the sun, as Strigoi didn't sleep.

My phone vibrated in my lap, reminding me that I had to transfer the numbers and then dispose of it. Glancing up at the lightening sky, I decided to save it until I'd stopped at a hotel, not wanting to waste any time by stopping on the side of the highway again. As I looked at the little clock on the dashboard that read 5:52 a.m., a small voice in my head told me repeatedly that I needed to find a place to stay, and that place happened to be a lodge hidden in the woods nine miles from a small town I passed through seven minutes later.

I drove down the straight gravel road leading to the lodge, my phone shaking impatiently in my lap. Soon, the trees on both sides of the road cleared, revealing seven small wooden cabins and another larger one. I bit my lip and followed the road around toward the large cabin and parked in front of it, my eyes landing on the sign that said 'Reception' in bold, white letters. Leaving the screwdriver stuck in the ignition, I got out of the car and knocked on the glass door beneath the sign. I looked around as I waited, taking note of my surroundings as I tapped my foot impatiently against the pine needle covered ground.

A little grey haired lady wrapped in a fluffy blue dressing gown answered the door and ushered me inside, and then ordered me to sit in a little old armchair while she collected a pen and a folder from the wooden desk on the other side of the room. I didn't want to stay too long, though I wanted a little time to look around the town and collect my thoughts. I paid for three nights, and then followed the lady to the smallest cabin on the site. I couldn't ignore the questioning looks she continued to send me as she showed me what cupboards held blankets and towels, and I briefly wondered if she'd seen the shattered window of the car. Then again, I was sure that the red eyes and early morning arrival would have rattled her enough. I told her I'd drove all night as I had an allergy to the sun, but I didn't know how much of my story she understood, considering my Russian wasn't really first-class.

We walked back to the main cabin in silence so I could collect my things and the lady could go back to sleep for another hour or two. I drove the Toyota around the back of my cabin, out of sight, and then tossed all the things I'd tipped out earlier back into my bag. Dropping my duffel on the wooden floor, I closed the cabin door behind me and locked it. I worked quickly, hanging blankets over the windows to block out the rising sun completely, and then sat down on the bare mattress and started working on my phones. Once all the numbers had been moved from one phone to the other, I pulled the battery out of my old phone and slid it under the couch, and then dropped the device to the floor and crushed it under my shoe, kicking all the small pieces under the bed.

After that, I took my clothes from my bag and laid them out on the bed, looking over the tops, jeans and shorts that I'd hastily packed. My heart sunk a little as I thought of the many pretty, unworn dresses that hung in the closet of the apartment I'd left, that were too long and delicate to shove in my bag in the two minute time period I'd given myself to pack. I banished the thought of driving back to Novosibirsk to collect the dresses, and instead busied myself by writing a list of clothes I'd have to buy, or unless I could find a twenty-four hour mall, steal. Shoes and other personal hygiene products went on the list as well, and though I didn't think Strigoi sweat or had hairy legs and underarms, I needed the reassurance of having them in my bag in case I found that I was wrong.

Twenty minutes later I found myself with nothing to do. And it was only 7:15 a.m. I paced the room, watched two minutes of each channel on the small TV, and listened to a Russian radio station for a half hour, trying to figure out the lyrics for all the songs that played. I then found that I could plug my iPod into the sound system, and after doing so, danced around the room to a playlist on my iPod. And then that got boring. Turning the music down, I sat down on the mattress and sighed. I stared at the clock on the wall and willed time to go faster. I really didn't understand how other Strigoi stayed sane locked inside during the day. Considering all the free time they had while the sun was up to plan and scheme, you'd think their attacks, including the one on the academy, would have been more successful.

Thinking about planning reminded me of the task I'd set myself for later that night. I'd look around the town a little, and try to work around the security systems of clothing shops. The last part was the part that needed the most planning. I may have been a badass Dhampir, but that didn't mean I knew how to disable high tech alarms. So I strategized and waited somewhat patiently for nightfall, and as soon as the moon came out, I left the cabin and went into town on foot. The walk was calming, or, as calming as it could get for a Strigoi, and I found myself in front of a little boutique in almost no time. I looked both left and right before throwing my fist through the glass door. It turned out that being Strigoi had its advantages when it came to breaking and entering. I was almost certain that the cameras wouldn't catch me, seeing as Strigoi were practically invisible to anything but eyes, but just in case it could, I made quick work of knocking the rest of the glass out of the doorframe and stepping inside. I pulled my hood over my head and then started toward the closest rack of clothes, and took one of every item in my size. The loud alarm told me I didn't have time to be picky, so I ran around the shop and pulled hanger after hanger into my arms.

I heard the distant sirens as I was shoving the clothes into the paper bags behind the counter, and as soon as everything was packed, I moved to the back of the shop and took the security tape. Then I ran out on to the street, and didn't stop until I'd arrived back at my cabin. I dropped the bags on my bed and snatched up the list of things I needed to buy off the bedside table, along with cash, and then left again. I walked back to town, smirking as I passed the two police cars parked outside the boutique, and rounded the corner to the twenty four hour Mosmart Hypermarket I'd passed on my way through earlier.

Once everything on my list was safe in my basket, I started towards the front of the shop, but a box of PopTarts stopped me dead in my tracks. They were the only food I loved that the academy didn't allow. I moved closer to the shelf they were on while I thought about buying them. I wanted them, I really did, but I didn't think Strigoi could eat normal food. Then again, I could always try. Maybe Strigoi just didn't ever want anything other than blood. I pulled them into the basket and made my way to the front of the store to pay for everything.

The girl who served me didn't take her eyes off of me for more than half a second at a time as she scanned and bagged all my things. She looked around the same age as Sonya, and had dark, greasy blonde hair and pretty freckles spread across her nose and cheeks. She gave me my total and then tried to make small talk as I reached for the money in my pocket. She was English.

"Nice contacts."

I counted out three ten dollar notes and handed them to her as the corners of my lips turned up at her naivety.

"They're not contacts," I murmured. I leaned against the counter while I waited for my change, and thought about playing with her a little. I had nothing to lose.

"If you say so . . ."

I smirked and then opened my mouth, giving her a lovely view of my new fangs. She started to stutter, the colour draining from her face as shook her head, to me or herself, I didn't know.

"N- No, that's not . . ."

I moved my face closer to hers, a sinister smile on my lips, "they're not contacts."

"They're- No! Vampires aren't real. Twilight-"

I snorted and reached for the two bags she'd packed, change forgotten, and left the store.

After dropping the last of my things at the cabin, I spent the rest of the night sorting things out. I ditched the car again, leaving it in the middle of the woods somewhere, and then found a clearing to test my new strength and speed.

I couldn't rip a tree from the ground like Edward Cullen, but I could knock it down if I tried hard enough. And I wasn't as fast as him either, which made me feel like a bit of an inferior vampire. I had to remind myself repeatedly that the Cullen's were fictional characters, and that I didn't need to get so worked up about not being as strong and speedy as them.

Though my physical abilities hadn't changed as much as I had hoped, I found the heightened senses pretty cool. And I couldn't wait to use them in battle.

The more I thought about fighting and bloodshed, the more my throat began to sting. I used the built in GPS I seemed to have to help find my way back to the main road from the clearing, and then started on the walk back into town for the third time that night. I found a bar on the outskirts of town, and smirked to myself as I walked inside and placed myself on a stool. I ordered a shot of Russian vodka and waited for the men to come.

Not long after my drink had been set down in front of me, a man sat on the chair opposite mine and introduced himself. I didn't pay much attention to his name, instead choosing to flash him my man-eater smile and bat my eyelashes seductively. In almost no time at all I found myself wedged between his body and his car outside the bar, with his tongue violently assaulting the inside of my mouth. I resisted the urge to bite his tongue off, and instead flipped us around so he was the one pressed against the car.

I left a trail of kisses down his jaw and smiled against his skin once my mouth pressed against his neck. Leaving him with one last small kiss, I sank my teeth into his flesh and hummed in delight.

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_If you're anything like me and hate chapters that don't contain interaction between the main character and her romantic interest/boyfriend/husband, then you probably didn't like this chapter at all. But I'd like it a lot if you reviewed anyway . . ._

_Oh, and I think I've started to like Rose/Christian stories a little. Maybe it's because I don't like Lissa, I don't know. I thought I'd let you know. Boring fact of the day and all that._

_I'm kind of shocked at how fast I wrote this chapter. It may not have seemed that fast to you guys, but it's really hard to find the time to write most days. I think your alerts and reviews inspired me (:_


	3. Failed Attempt

I left the lodge the next night and caught a bus to Omsk, and the night after, caught a train to Moscow. Like I had in my cabin, I hung blankets over the train windows and sat around during the day time. I'd taken money from the man I'd killed at the bar, and had done the same for all my other victims since. Though I hadn't used that money on anything other than travel, I felt a little more secure with it in my bag.

I'd stopped in a little cafe in the train station, and looked at apartments on my phone using the wireless the cafe provided. I had used the three hour wait for night-time to my advantage, and made a comparisons chart on a napkin for the four apartments I'd found that I liked, and after that, started calling the numbers at the bottom of each listing. My Russian wasn't the best, but all four landladies had the patience to stay on the phone with me, and all agreed to show me around the apartments that night. I then started looking for a hotel to stay in for however long I needed, but halfway through my search, my phone vibrated in my hand.

I cocked my head to the side and opened the text message.

_Dearest, maybe you should wear your contacts. Others are starting to stare._

I looked around the small cafe and then back down at my phone. I started on a reply, leaving out the many questions I had. I didn't want them to think that the message had bothered me, even though it had.

_Let them._

I set my phone down on the table and twirled a strand of hair around my finger. I could only imagine what I looked like considering I couldn't fix my hair in mirrors - part of the whole Strigoi deal is having no reflection - or apply makeup. Not that I wore makeup that often, anyway. My phone pulled me from my thoughts, and I leaned forward to pick it up. Only unlike last time, it continued to vibrate, so I pressed the little green button and moved it to my ear.

_"Rosemarie, what a lovely immortal you've made." _

It was a man. His voice was unfamiliar, but it held the unmistakable smoothness of a Strigoi's.

_"Dimitri's told us all about you." _

I blinked. Did he just?

"Is that so?"

_"Yes," _the person murmured, _"and I can't wait to tell him that you're no longer living, or one of the living dead."_

I almost laughed. Almost.

"You want to kill me."

_"Clever girl. But as much as I'd love to do it myself, I'm currently otherwise occupied, so I've sent my sons in my place. I hope you don't mind."_

"Not at all." I hoped he didn't mind that his sons wouldn't be returning home. Trying to take me down is like trying to give back my virginity.

_"Such a shame-" _I ended the call then, bored of his voice and the way he spoke, and thought about Dimitri. What had he said that had made this man want to kill me? And then I remembered the way he hadn't chased after me when I had run from him days ago. Why had not pursued me?

"Excuse me, Miss, are you finished with this?" A waitress asked, interrupting my thoughts as she motioned to the untouched muffin that sat on my plate. I nodded and handed her the plate, then asked for another glass of orange juice. I'd found that Strigoi could drink most liquids in the time I'd spent so far as an immortal. As for food, well, the PopTarts hadn't gone down so well. I hadn't tried eating after that. Any food I bought I used as a prop. Like the muffin. The waitress smiled at me and took my plate, and with a sigh I began to search for hotels again.

Two orange juices, a water and another untouched item of food later, I bought a map of the city at the train station and then stepped out onto the cold street. I opened up the map and looked for the road the hotel I'd called was on, and then started off down the street. I planned to drop my things off, shower, change and then meet with the landladies of the apartments, but of course, God didn't like that plan. No more than three minutes after I'd left the train station, four Strigoi ran at me and manhandled me to a narrow alleyway alongside an abandoned warehouse. I didn't fight them as they dragged me down the alleyway, or after they'd let go of me and backed me up against the dusty brick wall of the warehouse. Instead, I stuck my chin up and started a little conversation with them.

"Your father wants me dead," I stated after coming to the conclusion that they were the sons of the stranger on the phone, "why?"

Brother #1 looked at the other three, and then his burgundy eyes met mine. He stepped forward, Brother #2 moving quickly to his side. The two were identical, sharing the same colossal height, hooded eyes and shaggy black hair. I could only tell them apart by the small bump on Brother #2's nose. Brother #1 opened his mouth to speak, but Brother #2 beat him to it.

"Because Dimitri's rather fond of you."

"And?"

Brother #2 raised a bushy eyebrow and looked at Brother #1.

"What do you mean 'And?'" He asked as he turned his eyes back to me.

"I mean, what has Dimitri being 'fond' of me have to do with your father and my death?"

Brother #4 moved to stand beside the other two and crossed his arms over his chest.

"He . . . upset our father a long time ago, and now it's our father's turn to upset him. Ifwe kill you, he'll have to spend the rest of his long life without his most prized possession."

"That's the stupidest thing I've heard. Strigoi don't have emotions. He couldn't care less if I died."

"That's where you're wrong," Brother #1 started, "he needs you to get him in power. He can't do it himself, he's not strong enough to take down Galina and all her puppets alone. He'll need someone as strong as him, if not stronger, and no one better than the girl he trained himself."

"Who's Galina?"

"His mentor. Dimitri wants her power, he wants her empire under his command."

I looked over at Brother #3 and narrowed my eyes.

"Don't you have anything to say?" I asked as I took in his appearance. He looked different, completely different to the others. He had sandy blonde hair that fell in his eyes and partly covered his bushy blonde eyebrows. He was shorter than his brothers, though a lot bulkier than them.

"Not really. I'm not one for commentary."

Brother #2 then knocked me to the ground, taking advantage of my lack of alertness as I thought of Blondie shirtless. I snorted as he tried to pin me beneath him, and then violently thrust my hips up, sending him tumbling off of me. I got to my feet right as Brother #1 and Brother #4 crouched down, and then I started towards them. I reached Brother #4 first, and conveniently dodged all his attacks before knocking his feet out from under him. I hastily straddled his body on the ground, and placing my hands on either side of his head, I pulled. His head tore off from his body with a sickening velcro-like sound, and I rolled off of him, ready to deal with the other three Strigoi. Brother #2 ran towards me and pushed on my shoulders as he tried to hold me down again, but maneuvered around him and tugged his arm off. Then his head came off, and his body dropped the ground with a thud. When I turned around, Brother #1 snarled viciously at me, but Brother #3 was nowhere in sight. I focused on Brother #1, and almost instantly had him on the ground. He threw several Russian profanities my way before I silenced him for good.

I waited, but Brother #3 didn't show up. So I started back down the alleyway, grabbing my dropped bag on the way out, and then the map that sat further up the street. After I'd made it back to the hotel and checked in, I showered as planned and then laid three potential outfits on the bed. I decided on a pair of skinny jeans and a black tank top, and then, to make myself look more sophisticated, I pulled on a long sleeved black chiffon shirt. I put my hair into a ponytail and grabbed my wallet, phone and the piece of paper that held the addresses to each of the apartments, and then found a pair of new black flats at the bottom of my bag. I ripped the tags off and slipped them on, and then left the hotel room.

The taxi ride to the first apartment took over twenty minutes as the driver drove slower than a slug. I made a mental note to myself to buy a car, or steal one, so I wouldn't have to endure taxi rides every time I wanted to go somewhere. I asked the driver to keep the meter running and then met the landlady on the steps by the entrance to the building. She didn't say much as we took the elevator up to the fifth floor. After we stepped out of the elevator we walked to the third door on the left in the hallway. She twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open, and I was immediately assaulted with the strong smell of chemicals from what I guessed came from cleaning products. She flipped the light switch on my right and the apartment lit up, revealing a small kitchenette to my right and a little door to what I assumed was the bathroom on the wall opposite the kitchen. The floor was a dark stained wood, and the walls were brick. The furnishings were modern and nice, but the apartment still looked bare. I'd have to buy paintings and pot plants to decorate if I took it.

The landlady showed me around, pointing to all the nicer features of the apartment. I was pretty much sold on it, and then signed the papers right away after she mentioned the turbojets in the bath. I gave her a cash deposit and she gave me the key, and we exchanged phone numbers before I left. The taxi driver had waited patiently for me outside the apartment, so I tipped him generously once we'd arrived back at the hotel. I dropped the new apartment key off in my room before changing into running clothes and heading back out again. I started running once the lobby doors closed behind me and scanned the streets as I went, looking for someone to feed off of. I found my target four blocks over, stumbling down the street in heels that looked really horribly uncomfortable. She was alone, and boy was she drunk. Her sobs grew louder the closer I got, and I resisted the urge to knock her out so she'd stop the annoying noises. Instead, I waited until she noticed me and then backed her up against the concrete wall of a building. Before I could say anything, she slouched forward and wrapped her arms around my neck, and started to ruin my tank top with her tears. She mumbled things in Russian against my top as she wailed, and I started to grow impatient with her behaviour. After she blew her nose on my shirt, I decided that I would in fact knock her out.

Once I'd finished with her I started to run again, and almost ran right into another damn Strigoi. It wasn't Brother #3 to my disappointment, but it was someone I knew. I gasped and stumbled backwards, looking up in wonder at the immortal in front of me.

"Mrs Karp?"

* * *

_I finished this chapter kind of fast, I think. Thank you to the readers who reviewed the last chapter. There weren't many of you, but the story has been getting a load of hits and visitors, so I know that people are reading the story. I don't really mind if you don't review, though I mean it when I say that they help me write faster. And it kind of shows me that you like the chapters and all that (:_

_Alright, the guilt trip is over. I have two other unfinished stories and I'm trying to update them, so I don't know how long the next chapter is gonna take. Oh, and I wanted to tell you guys that I have a playlist of the music I listen to as I write chapters for Red Eyed Vixen. If you wanted to know or something. I update it a lot (:  
http:/www. youtube. com/playlist?list=PL987509C72066093F&feature=mh_lolz  
_

_I'm around on Twitter too, if you ever want to find me . . .  
https:/ twitter. com/ __msdivbf_


	4. Making Connections

_CloudedMindx really helped me out with this chapter, because I kind of lost myself halfway through. _

_Thank you to all the readers who reviewed the last chapter (: _

* * *

"Rosemarie, how lovely to see you again."

I was too stunned to speak.

"I always liked you the best. You had the potential to become something magnificent . . ." Miss Karp scanned my body before her eyes locked on mine, "I'm glad to see that it hasn't been wasted."

"You're- Oh my God. What are you-" I literally couldn't form a sentence. I couldn't do anything other than stare.

"What am I doing here?" Miss Karp supplied. I nodded. "The truth is, Rose; I came to find you. I saw your face on the news; a suspect for a murder in Novosibirsk that sounded like a Strigoi attack, and then the next day, I heard a rumour about you being turned. I knew I had to see it for myself."

At least she wasn't trying to destroy me, then.

"Do you know the things you're capable of now that you're like me?"

I didn't answer. It was then that a figure standing further up the street caught my eye.

"You have the . . ."

Her voice faded as I turned my attention to the stranger. By the looks of their build and pale skin, it was a male Strigoi. I squinted a little and spotted a patch of light blonde hair peeking out from under his hoodie. I smirked to myself and started towards him.

It looked like Brother #3 had found me.

I heard Miss Karp call my name, but I ignored her and kept my eyes on Brother #3, determined not to let him get away this time. I wanted to know more about his father's plans, and seeing as I'd killed his brothers, he was the only one left to get information from.

"It's you," I murmured as I slowed to a stop in front of him, "are you following me?"

He smirked and pulled a coin from his pocket.

"Do you want me to?"

He rolled the coin over his knuckles and looked at me through his lashes.

"No. I do want information, though." I replied.

"Information about what?"

"About Dimitri. And your father."

He put the coin back in his pocket and shrugged.

"Alright."

I blinked.

"You're going to tell me? Just like that?"

"I don't have any reason not to. Anton may be my father, but I hate his guts."

The hatred that flared in his eyes as he talked about his father told me that he wasn't lying. I nodded and looked over at Miss Karp, and then back at Brother #3. I didn't know if I could trust her, and I really didn't feel comfortable talking about Dimitri in front of her. I cleared my throat and pushed my hair over my shoulder.

"Do you think we could talk in private?"

_#####_

"This isn't exactly private, you know," I yelled over the loud music. Brother #3 held my hand as he led me through the crowd of grinding couples, and looked back at me after every twelve steps as if to check I hadn't been lost in the swarm of sweaty bodies.

"It's as private as we're going to get tonight. Anton isn't the only one looking for you."

"Really?"

"You're Rosemarie Hathaway," Brother #3 said after we'd stopped in the middle of the floor, "Strigoi feared you before you were turned. They're shitting their pants now that you're practically indestructible. You're a threat, and they want you dead."

I smirked to myself. I was _so_ badass.

"So, what do you want to know about my father?"

My first question was one that had irritated me for the last few hours. It frustrated me because I didn't know why it was so important for me to know the answer.

"Is your father going to hurt Dimitri?"

Brother #3 shook his head. "Not directly, no."

I didn't know why his answer had relieved me of a previously unnoticed weight on my chest, because Dimitri wasn't my concern anymore. I moved that thought to the back of my mind and refocused my attention on the information I needed to get.

"Why didn't you try to kill me like your brothers? Why did you run?"

"I told you, I hate Anton. I followed my brothers around because I don't know what else to do with myself. I've been like this" he motioned to his body, "for years. I've done everything on my bucket list three times."

I nodded.

"But then I saw you take them down, and I wasn't going to be next. So I ran. And now I don't know what to do. _Again_."

"How many contacts does your father have? How many of them are going to try to kill me?"

"I don't know. I'd say a few hundred, maybe-"

"_Hundred?_" I screeched as I threw my arms out either side of me. I think I may have had hit someone in the face, but at that moment, I didn't really give a crap. The fact that a 'few hundred' Strigoi wanted to kill me mattered a lot more than someone's nose.

"Yup," Brother #3 popped the 'p' and put his hands on my hips, "now dance with me."

"But I haven't finished asking-"

He cut me off by covering my mouth with one hand, while the other pulled my body against his. We started to sway to the music, and after a bit, all my thoughts got lost in the beat. I danced with him for hours, though I spent most of my time sending death glares to the women that dared to try and steal him away. It wasn't that I was jealous that they were staring, because I would have stared too, but I didn't appreciate them flirting so shamelessly with him when I was right there. What if I had been his girlfriend, or fiancée, or wife?

A little later, cocktails stopped being served at the bar and people started to clear out of the club, probably in search of another source of alcohol. Brother #3 and I followed them hand in hand -though I had no idea how that had happened- down the streets, watching with amusement as the drunken ones stumbled and fell, face first, to the ground.

Then I realized something.

"What's your name?"

Brother #3 chuckled, "I thought you'd never ask. I mean here we are, on a date, and you don't even know my name-"

"We aren't on a date."

"I beg to differ. We're holding hands and taking an early morning stroll-"

"No. No dates. But what's your name?" I dropped his hand, and ignored the hurt look on his face.

"Wesley."

I nodded and pushed my hair over my shoulder. I found my mind wandering back to Dimitri and Anton, and as much as I tried to turn my thoughts in another direction, it didn't work. I knew my former mentor was more than capable of taking care of himself, but for some reason, the thought of someone hurting him,_ killing_ him, made anger well up within me and a small growl rattle in my throat.

A husky voice brought me back from my thoughts. My eyes focused on Wesley's perplexed face, and then I realized that I must have _really _growled. Oops.

"Uh, Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"You kind of just . . . grumbled at me. Something on your mind?"

"No, no. I think I'm going to go back to my hotel now, though," I pointed to the lightening sky, "before something happens to me. By the way, what does happen to a Strigoi in the sun?"

Wesley cocked his head to the side and shrugged.

"I don't know I've always been too scared to try it."

"Oh, well, maybe you'll have to test it sometime and tell me. But, I should go. I still have another nine blocks to cover before the sun shows, so . . ."

"I'll come too," he said, "you know, to answer the rest of your questions. I mean, if you want me to come."

I thought about it for a second, and my curiosity won out.

"Fine."

Wesley smiled at me and scooped my hand up in his again, and then we started towards the hotel. But we were both completely unaware of the other red eyed immortal out there, watching our every move.

* * *

_Review, please? (:_


	5. Wesley

"Admit it. You _like_ me." Wesley said with a suggestive eyebrow raise. He was leaning against the headboard and rolling that damn coin over his knuckles _again_. He'd done it four times since we'd arrived back at the hotel, and it was really starting to get on my nerves. And when he wasn't playing with it, he was throwing around the free soaps from the bathroom or shooting paper balls into the rubbish bin. It was like he literally couldn't sit still.

"And that's why you want me to accompany you to your next stop on the map-"

"You can follow me all you want, Wes, but I don't know exactly where I'm going next. I'm staying here a few days, at least."

He cocked his head to the side and smirked.

"I'll stay with you, if you want. I mean, you don't want to be locked in a boring hotel room all alone for hours a day, do you?"

"As appealing as company sounds, I do still like being able to hear my own thoughts. And that's almost impossible due to your whining and bitching and moaning-"

"I don't whine and bitch and moan," Wesley complained, "it's just me expressing my thoughts and opinions."

It was those thoughts and opinions that had made the first three hours back at the hotel room torture. Not only did he fidget a lot - he also expressed his hate towards his father and youngest brother in a continuous stream of colourful curse words. And when he tired of that, he started on the Dhampir girl that had ultimately been the reason he turned Strigoi, and then after that, the man who said Dhampir girl had cheated on him with.

"If you say so. How long until the sun goes down?"

Wesley looked at the clock on the wall and shrugged.

"Maybe three or four hours?"

"Lovely. At least I have a lot of time to get ready. I need it."

"Get ready for what?" Wes asked as he pocketed the coin again.

"Tonight. I need to feed."

"Really?"

"Uh huh."

"I need to feed too . . ."

I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I thought we established that you were allowed to follow me-"

"Accompany." He rudely interrupted.

"Fine, _accompany _me around Russia. But I have one condition. You _need _to start trying to stop fidgeting and talking as much. I refuse to look like I'm friends with a mental patient."

"Anything for you, Rosie."

In a way, the nickname had grown on me. That didn't mean that I wanted to be called Rosie for the rest of my long, eternal life, but it felt . . . nice to be called something other than Rosemarie or Rose for once. It made me feel new, almost like a different person. But I guess I was.

"Cool."

We lapsed into silence, and sat comfortably on the large bed while we listened to the sounds of cars drive by four stories below the hotel room. Time passed slowly as I thought of Dimitri again, and then my current immortal state. I briefly let my thoughts drift to my almost non-existent family and my friends, which included my mother and Lissa. I bet Janine felt like the world's shittiest parent now.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of Wesley's iPhone tore me away from my bitter thoughts about my former Dhampir life, and made us both jump a little. Wesley looked like he would blush if he still could and then tugged the phone from his pocket, and placed his index finger over his lips before answering.

I obediently kept my mouth shut and listened to what I could hear of the conversation. From the way Wesley tensed at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone, I'd bet it was his father. He spat out one word answers and after what felt like years, he hung up and looked at me.

He pressed his lips into a straight line, and I watched as his nostrils flared and his eyes hardened. For the first time since I had met him, I was scared. Not that I'd ever admit it.

"Wes?" I whispered tentively as I slowly moved closer to him, "What's wrong? Who was that?"

"He saw us," he growled, "He knows where we are. One of his men must have seen us come in here and then reported back to him . . ."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that we're dead if we don't leave the second we have the chance. Pack your shit."

He got to his feet and started pacing the room, all while keeping his eyes locked on me.

"Surely we can take an old man? I don't know why you're scared of him, Wes, but-"

"No, we can't! It's not just him, I thought you understood this. He's not alone! He's been around for years, and he's got a crapload of loyal followers."

I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. If being Strigoi meant running all the time, then I may aswell have stayed a freaking Dhampir. But I didn't really have a choice in that.

"Pack your Goddamn things, Rose!" Wesley shouted as his foot collided with my empty suitcase.

"Chill the fuck out. We have three or four hours-"

"No, we don't! You need to get off of your ass and put all of your shit back into the bag, so we can leave!"

"If you hadn't noticed, the sun is still up!"

"I know how to work around it."

He grabbed my arm and yanked me off of the bed, and then pushed me in the direction of the clothes and shoes that decorated the floor and bathtub of the adjoining bathroom.

"You could have told me that earlier, instead of letting me sit here listening to your stories-"

"Now's not the time for this! Pack your stuff before I make you leave without it!"

Wesley pushed past me and scowled the various items of mine that were scattered across the floor. He reached down and grabbed a pair of shoes in front of him, and then threw them in my direction and ordered me to put them on. They were ridiculously high platforms that had neither straps nor a decently thick heel. They'd be impossible to walk in, but the look on Wesley's face told me I didn't want to argue, so I grudgingly slipped them on and then started to throw my belongings into the two bags I had.

We packed quickly, and were out the door in no time. It was only when we were running -or in my case, hobbling- down the hotel hallway with thick blankets draped over our heads, blocking us from the sunlight, did a thought come to mind.

"Why the hell didn't you just tell you father that you had befriended me in order to make me trust you?"

Wesley shrugged and continued to literally drag me along.

"You could have said that-"

"Please, Rose, just shut up and run. Now's not the time to be a smartass."

I glared at him but picked up the pace a little anyway. He continued to impatiently tug on my arm as we ran, and I grumbled on about the tortuous heels. They didn't hurt my feet, but they were uncomfortable as hell to run in, so much that I started to wish I had risked arguing with Wesley about putting them on. I thought about stopping to kick them off, but Wesley's death grip on my wrist prevented me from doing so.

I ignored the stares and glares as we ran through the lobby and out the front doors of the hotel, along with the receptionist's calls. According to Wesley, we didn't have the time to stop and hand back the room key and pay, so we didn't. We sprinted up the street and then turned onto a back road, being careful to stay in the shadows and keep the blankets draped careful over our heads, and I struggled to keep up the pace that Wes set. Even for a Strigoi, he was damn fast.

"Wes," I panted dramatically, "I'm slowing you down. Leave me behind, save yourself!"

He glared at me over his shoulder.

"Really, it's me they're after. I'm tired of running, and I _just _got an apartment here! Oh, and these shoes are horrible, they're killing me!"

He ignored me and continued to drag me along.

"I don't want to leave!" I exclaimed, "You can't make me leave. I'm not scared of your father."

"But I am!" He screamed, suddenly stopping in his tracks. He spun around to face me, his eyes narrowed and his jaw locked, "Can't you get that through your thick head? I know him, and he could kill you in the blink of an eye! Not to mention what he'd do to me, now that he knows I left my brothers for dead and am associating with the girl that killed them! I'm not going to die, and I'm certainly not going to let you either!"

"I don't want to run anymore-"

"I don't care! We're leaving, Rose. I'll throw you over my shoulder kicking and screaming if I have to."

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Why do you care about what happens to me? And where do we go, anyway? I thought your father had men everywhere."

"Firstly, I don't know. You're hot. Maybe that's why. And secondly, we're going to Novosibirsk. I know someone there who could help . . ."

Was he kidding?

"No way. No. I only left Novosibirsk four days ago. I'm _not _going back there again!"

"You don't have a choice!"

"Fine," I murmured angrily, "but this better be worth it. If we die on the way, I'm going to_ kill_ you."

* * *

_The chapter took a little bit, but it's finally here. Sorry for the wait! _

**_Only The Lucky, Tumarishima, Bragi002, Mareena, KrystalRose92 and littlebadgirl2904 _**_for reviewing (: I really like you readers and your reviews._


	6. Bottle

"You've got twenty minutes to do whatever you need to do. Your hair, makeup, whatever. I'm meeting a friend at a club in an hour and I'm not leaving you here alone," Wesley said as he dropped me down on the cheap motel bed. After another little argument at the Novosibirsk train station, Wesley had snapped and had literally thrown me over his shoulder and carried me to the nearest hotel. I didn't complain though; I had a lovely view of his butt for an entire twenty minutes.

"So basically I'm going to be babysat until you've sorted out all this crap with your fa- Anton? I'm completely capable of looking after myself, you know," I grumbled.

"Really? If you're 'completely capable of looking after yourself', remind me why you're Strigoi again? I seem to recall you being turned _against _your will."

Damn it. He had me there. Instead of backing down, I picked up a pillow and threw it at his head. Unfortunately for me, he threw it back harder. And the second it collided with my chest, tiny little brown and white feathers burst from the top of it and embedded themselves in my tangled mess of hair.

"Twenty minutes," he repeated, and then he turned and left the room, mumbling something about making a call.

I sighed and rolled off the bed, and dusted the feathers off of my clothes. I moved to my bag in the corner of the room, and tugged a tight black mini dress from the tangle of fabric that sat inside of it. Before heading into the adjoining bathroom, I grabbed my black boots and my makeup bag, and decided to figure out my accessories after I was dressed.

After applying three coats of mascara and a tiny amount of eye shadow, I glossed up my lips and scrunched a little styling clay into my hair. I didn't have the time to straighten it or curl it, so I had to make do with the bedhead look. I then slipped into my dress and pulled on my boots, and with a quick ruffle of my hair, I was ready.

I stepped out into the bedroom to find Wesley lounging on the bed, tapping away on his phone. I didn't know who he was texting, considering he had no friends. I pushed the thought out of my mind and tapped him on the shoulder, and smirked at the goofy look on his face when he turned around to look at me.

"You clean up well," he said, shoving his phone into his pocket.

And I knew it. Although I no longer had a reflection, I could tell that the dress was flattering on me by the cut and length of it - the only two things I had to go by when buying clothes these days.

I hummed and spun around. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yup," he said, popping the p. He reached up and plucked a feather from my hair, and held it between his fingers. "You know, it looks like you've been attacked by a bird."

I glared at him, and tugged at my hair self-consciously.

"You only gave me twenty minutes. I didn't have time to do anything else with it!"

"No," he pulled my hand from my hair and held it between his. "It looks . . . nice. Wild."

"Whatever," I grumbled and snatched my hand away. I folded my arms across my chest and stomped over to the door. The idiot had successfully ruined my night already. How the hell was I supposed to act confident if my hair looked as horrible as I was picturing it to be?

"Aw, Rosie. Don't be like that."

I ignored him and slammed the motel door shut behind me, and started making my way down the hall. I had no idea where the club was, but I didn't want to walk with him. It was only when I was halfway down the street did I hear his footsteps pick up behind me.

"Rose-"

"I'm not talking to you," I sang childishly.

"You might want to," he said as he reached my side, "because I need to tell you about the person I'm meeting-"

"I don't want to know! I'm not talking to you!"

He sighed and ran his hand down the side of his face. "You're acting like a five year old. I said your hair looked nice. It was a compliment."

I snorted.

"Saying I look like I've been attacked by a bird isn't exactly a compliment, Wesley."

"Yeah, well . . . I thought you were tougher than that. It didn't occur to me before I said it that you'd run off and sulk like a little girl."

"There you go, insulting me again!"

He grumbled something to himself that I didn't catch, and then pushed past me to lead the way to the club. He didn't talk to me for the rest of the walk there, and that was fine by me. He'd done nothing but bug me since I'd met him anyway.

But then, I hadn't exactly been the nicest person to him. I'd killed his brothers, his only friends -even though he insisted he hated them- and had then gotten him on his father's hit list. I had whined the whole duration of the trip back to Novosibirsk when all he'd been trying to do was save my ass. And now I had gone and thrown a tantrum about a tiny little thing he'd said. I started to feel a little guilty, and jogged up the road to catch up with him. I'd thought that _he _was the annoying one, but it looked like that role belonged to me.

I wrapped my fingers around his and leaned into his side a little. It was my way of apologizing, considering there was no way in hell that I'd actually say sorry. He looked down at me and did a cute little half smile thing, and then ruffled my hair with his free hand. I took that as a sign that he'd accepted my apology, and grinned back at him.

By the time we finally reached the club, we'd moved closer to each other. His arm was draped across my waist and I found myself pressed tightly into his side, not that I minded at all. I started toward the stairs so I could get a better view of the crowd, and Wesley moved with me. He looked almost nervous as he scanned the room as we moved toward the upper floor of the club. I spotted an empty table and pulled him toward it, but before we could sit, his body tensed against my side.

"What is it?" I asked. "Strigoi?"

He didn't reply. He just kept his eyes locked on something on the floor below.

"Wes?" I waved my hand in front of his face and even clicked my fingers. His eyes darted back to me before the fell back on whatever he was looking at on the floor again.

"He's here," he said in a monotone voice after a few seconds.

"Who? Your father?"

"No, the person I'm meeting. I need to go talk to him. Listen, stay here, and don't move. I'll be back soon. Don't you dare leave this seat."

"What! No, I need to feed," I hissed. He shrugged and then started back toward the stairs.

"Too bad. Stay there, Rosemarie. If you're not at this table when I get back then hell is going to break loose."

Before I could reply, the crowd swallowed him up, and I looked around the room dejectedly. I couldn't stay in my seat, not in a room full of blood and sweat. And before I knew it I was prowling the club, searching for the best looking man to feed off for the night. The club acted like my buffet, providing a selection of lovely little humans to meet my needs. Most of the men and women here were into the sadist thing, therefore a little neck bite would just be foreplay and little blood loss a complete turn on.

I found a man standing at the bar downstairs and I made my way toward him. He was flirting with the bartender, but that wasn't a problem. I was the best looking woman in this room and the men knew it, despite the fact that my hair apparently looked like the result of a bird brawl.

"Hey sexy," He greeted with the tilt of his shot glass in my direction after I'd reached his side.

I let my eyes roam his face, and then his body, and bit down on my lip seductively. He was clad in black leather pants that left little wonder as to how _big_ he was down there, and his unzipped leather vest revealed his hairless, perfectly sculpted chest and a little silver nipple ring. His face was unflawed, but pierced. A dark stud sat in his eyebrow, and another in his lip and nose. His tongue ran along the edge of the shot glass, and I found another little ball lodged in it.

"Hi," I murmured as I closed the distance between us. I had noticed that most drunken idiots had no shame when approaching the opposite sex, so I decided to act the same. I moved forward and grabbed his hair roughly, and started to kiss up the side of his neck. My tongue darted out to taste the skin behind his ear. He moaned low into my ear, and snaked his arm around my waist.

I pressed my mouth against his and licked his lower lip, and I faintly heard the bartender clear her throat beside us. I ignored her and pushed my body closer to his, whimpering at the feel of the cool metal ball in his tongue roll around my mouth. If Wesley wanted me to kiss him, he'd definitely have to get one of those.

I lowered my mouth back to his neck and licked and sucked again, my nose following the line of an artery beneath his skin. I scraped my teeth over his skin once, twice, and a third time before letting them sink in. He groaned against my cheek and pulled me flush against his body as the endorphins started to kick in.

But I wasn't stupid. I couldn't kill him in the club. As hungry as I was, I couldn't take down all the people in the room, so instead I moved my mouth away from his neck and licked the blood from his skin.

"Take me outside," I said against his lips, and he nodded. He downed another shot and then pulled me through the crowd rather clumsily. We burst out of the fire exit and into an empty alleyway, where another couple stood sucking faces. I roughly pushed him agaist the concrete wall of the club and then pressed my mouth against his neck again, and let my fangs pierce his skin.

His hands roamed underneath my dress as I greedily drank his blood. All too soon though, his body went slack against mine and he fell to the ground with a thud. I looked over my shoulder at the couple across the alleyway, but they were gone.

I bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead before making my way back to the club. I scanned the room in search of Wesley, and found him standing by the railing upstairs, glaring down at me. He wasn't happy. I sighed and started to push my way toward the stairs.

"I told you to stay here," Wesley growled once I'd made it to his side. "You need to start listening to me, Rosie."

"And you need to understand that I hate being told what to . . ." I trailed off as I locked eyes with a Dhampir standing by the stairs. His eyes narrowed, and his lips turned up into a smirk. I growled loudly and started toward him, but Wesley grabbed my forearm and yanked me back.

"What the fuck!" I screamed, "What the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell are _you _doing?"

I ran my hand down my face and shook my head. I didn't want to tell him about the Dhampir, and that I intended to kill him, because I wanted him for myself. If Wesley were there, we'd have to share, and that wasn't any fun.

"Nothing that concerns you. Look, I need a little fresh air, alright? Don't worry, I'm not going to get myself killed," I said as I pried his fingers off of my arm. I kept my eyes on the Dhampir the entire time.

"I don't know . . ."

"_Please _Wes! A little freedom, that's all I ask! I know you're trying to look out for me, but really, I need a bit of space."

Wesley shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then sighed.

"Alright-"

I didn't hear what he said next - I was already running. The Dhampir had already moved downstairs, and was busy pushing his way through the crowd. Too busy to notice me approaching.

I had him right where I wanted him the second he stepped out into the alleyway. He stretched his arms up over his head, and I couldn't help the excited laugh that burst from my lips. It'd been way too long since I'd had a proper fight. The Dhampir spun around and stumbled backward, before snapping into guardian mode and charging toward me.

He was easy to take down. His movements were awkward and clumsy, and he couldn't throw a punch properly. He spent most of the two minute battle swinging his stake around in the air and grunting, which was rather comical to watch. But toward the end, I grew bored, and knocked his arm to the side. He dropped the stake and it rolled down the alleyway, and then I had him up against the wall. I bit into his neck, but didn't drain him completely, because I was still partially full from the last man.

He let out a low moan as he collapsed onto the hard, wet pavement. I snatched his wallet from his pocket before dragging his body behind a dumpster, where he'd be out of sight until he'd come to a few hours later. I rubbed my hands against my thighs and then looked at his wallet again.

His name was Dennis, and according to his student I.D card, he had yet to graduate from St Basils. He didn't have much cash; two twenty dollar notes and seven dollars and eighty cents in coins. I took the money and pushed it down the front of my bra, and tossed the wallet aside.

Before I could reach the door, I heard a loud thud from the closed end of the alleyway, and turned to face the darkness. I knew someone was there, because suddenly the air around me became heavy.

"That was quite a show love," A man said. His low voice vibrated off of the walls of the alley, and made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

"Would you like an encore?"

"I would, but perhaps a duet is in order?"

That voice, something about it was so familiar . . .

"Sorry, I don't do threesomes."

"Oh, then perhaps just you and I?"

The man had to be Strigoi. No Dhampir, Moroi or human would start a casual conversation with me after watching what I'd just done. No, he was definitely Strigoi.

"Maybe you should show yourself first, so I can see what I've got to work with," I said to the nothingness in front of me.

He chuckled, a rich sound that heated my core and sent a shivers down my spine.

"You already know what I look like, if not for some minor changes, don't you Roza?"

I blanched.

Roza?

Before I could completely understand what was happening or who I was talking to, the mystery man stepped out of the shadows and right into my line of sight.

His dark hair was pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. His tall, lethal frame was

as muscled as it always had been. And as my eyes roamed over his leather duster, I could see him as the instructor that taught me how to fight, how to kill, and as the man I had loved as a Dhampir.

Then the changes came into focus. His once tanned skin had turned a stark white like my own, and his deep brown eyes that I once got lost in when I was a naive girl were now ringed in burgundy. And lastly his voice, the voice that used to wrap around me like a caress was now even sexier than I could have ever imagined it to be.

And he was here, staring at me.

Dimitri.

* * *

_I am super sorry this took so long. But, I've got an excuse. I fell through a glass door yesterday, therefore couldn't update last night. And now you've got to feel sorry for me and leave me loads of lovely reviews._

_Speaking of reviews, there's around 25 alerts on this story. You know, if each reader that has this story on their story alerts list reviewed, then . . . There'd be a lot of reviews._

_CloudedMindx kind of wrote a lot of this chapter in the plans she sent me. I changed a few things around and added my own touches - the Wesley ones, but ultimately, the reunion between Dimitri and Rose was her work. And bits of the feeding scene. I bet you'll guess what words are hers (:_

_Alright. I'm going to go feel sorry for myself because my stitches are a pain in the ass and I only get around six reviews per chapter and that means that life is just completely unfair. _

_Toodles xx_


	7. Reunited

_I am so completely sorry. Really. It's been months and I'm sorry. But, I'll try to work on the next chapter tonight and tomorrow, so I'm able to upload that too. You guys deserve a double upload or something. _

_Cloudedmindx and I had an agreement, and it was that I'd send the chapter to her before uploading it. If she didn't reply to that chapter within three days, I'd upload it anyway. Well, see, she didn't reply to the chapter and it's been three days, and now I'm uploading it. I'm kind of scared, this is the first chapter I've uploaded without her looking at it first. _

_But . . . I pray that you like it. It's Dimitri!_

* * *

"Dimitri," I croaked, "what . . . what the _hell_ are you doing here?""

The corners of his lips turned up into an infuriating smirk.

"I could ask you the same thing. This is _my _country, after all."

I shook my head, completely stunned. I hadn't expected to see him so soon, or, at all, really. Sure, I'd come to Russia in the first place to hunt him down and kill him, but after I'd been changed, he'd lost his place at the top of my list of priorities.

"No, not here, Russia, but _here_. I didn't take you for a partier," I said. "And why were you watching me? Have you been following me?"

"Not exactly," he murmured. He started toward me, and my hands started to tremble at my sides. It looked like my body still reacted to him then, Strigoi or not.

I crossed my arms over my chest and willed my hands to stop shaking.

"Not exactly? What does that mean?"

"My brother contacted me yesterday," Dimitri said. "He asked for protection for him and a friend, a girl. I was reluctant at first, but then he told me that the girl-"

"But you don't have a brother."

"Don't interrupt me," he growled. I glared at him, but kept my mouth shut anyway.

"As I was saying, my brother asked for my help. You could imagine my surprise when he said that his girlfriend was none other than Rose Hathaway."

For a Strigoi, my brain seemed to be working a little slow. It took me a while to process his words, and when I finally did, I felt like punching something.

"Wesley's your _brother_?" I screeched.

Dimitri chuckled as he watched me fume, no doubt enjoying my frustration.

"This isn't funny!"

And it wasn't. Wesley had lied. Well, maybe not lied, but he'd kept the truth from me. Not telling me that Dimitri, my former lover, was the 'friend' that he was meeting tonight was rather rude.

"I have to find Wesley," I said, turning on my heel, preparing to make my dramatic entrance. Before I could go storming back to the club though, Dimitri's fingers clasped my wrist, pulling me back toward him.

A bolt of electricity shot up my arm, and my icy heart started to thump viciously against my chest. I looked up and met Dimitri's intense gaze, feeling the world spin around me.

"I'm not finished with you yet, Roza."

There was that name again, my name. I shivered, and then cursed my immortal body's reaction to him.

I was Strigoi. I wasn't supposed to have a heart.

So why could Dimitri still affect me like this?

I pushed the thoughts to the back of my head, locking them away until I was alone in the comfort of my little hotel room. Right now, I had to focus on finding Wesley so I could beat answers out of him.

I snatched my arm away from him and growled.

"Well I'm finished with you."

With that I turned away and ran back down alleyway, back toward the club. When I got in, I started looking for Wesley. Not that he was that hard to find. He had a girl up against the wall, although I didn't know if he was making out with her or feeding off of her. Maybe both.

"Wesley!" I snapped as I approached, my hands balled in fists at my sides. A few heads turned my way, but I couldn't care less if I was making a scene.

Wesley's face broke away from the girl's, and I unleashed my deadliest glare as he turned to face me.

I didn't wait for the girl to leave before lunging at him. My fist shot out to meet his nose, impacting with it with a satisfying crunch.

"That's for not telling me about Dimitri," I growled. "Now, want to tell me what the _fuck _is going on?"

I could hear the girl yelp as Wesley stumbled back, his weight crushing her against the wall.

That's what you get for making out with vampires.

"I tried to tell you," Wesley said as he clutched his nose. He made no move forward, keeping the girl trapped between his back and the wall. I wondered if he even knew she was there.

"When?!"

"On the way here!" he yelled. "But you were being a stubborn little ass and refused to listen!"

Oh. That's right. I'd told him that I didn't want to know.

"Yeah, well that was because you insulted my hair," I grumbled.

Wesley huffed and shook his head disapprovingly at me, as if he were scolding a child. That made me livid again.

Before I could resume my thorough bitching out of Wesley, the girl tapped him on the shoulder as if reminding him she was still there. He looked over his shoulder, saw her wedged against the wall and quickly moved away. He apologized to her and then turned back to me.

"Look, go back to the hotel room and wait there. We'll talk about this later. In private."

"I'm not your puppy! I'm not going to wait like an obedient little b-"

"Later, Rose," he snapped. "In _private_."

And then I remembered that we were surrounded by humans. Creatures that knew nothing about Dhampirs or Moroi or Strigoi.

Oh.

"Whatever," I spat. I shot him one last glare before leaving the club.

Safe behind the walls of my little hotel room, I unlocked my earlier thoughts about Dimitri and urged them forward.

I didn't understand why I'd felt like I had when I'd first heard him. The emotion was similar to relief, but why would hearing his voice make me feel relieved? He didn't matter to me anymore.

And then there was that buzzing, that tingling sensation that had taken over my body when I'd seen him. The last time I'd felt that was the night at the cabin before the attack, when we'd both been Dhampirs. So why was I feeling it again? We certainly weren't Dhampirs anymore.

It was all so strange, and I couldn't put any of it together. Did I feel this way in his presence because he'd been the one who'd changed me? Maybe there was some sort of bond that formed between a Strigoi and whoever they'd turned . . .

But Wesley didn't act like he had a bond to his father; the man I'd assumed had turned him.

I confused, to say the least. Why had I felt these foreign feelings? Why had Dimitri made me feel these foreign feelings?

Because if it weren't for a bond, the only other explanation I could come up with was that I still had feelings for him. And that wasn't possible. Strigoi couldn't love, and I couldn't love him, could I?

* * *

_Review? (:_


	8. Reunited 2

Wesley was a jerk. Officially. I waited. And waited and waited for him on the grim motel bed, just like he'd wanted. But he hadn't come back, and like some precarious 1990's housewife I'd leisured in a teeny bottle of wine from the mini fridge by the bathroom, though it had no effect on my mental well being, whatsoever. I was still angry at Wes and Dimitri, and my pathetic body, which was seemingly still caught up on that pig-headed strigoi of mine.

And I hated it. I was immortal now, nothing was supposed to matter. I was supposed to be cool- I was supposed to be badass. How would I ever be cool and badass if I was potentially still pining over my ex-lover? I wanted to be cool and I wanted to be like Victor. Even as a mortal, he'd killed his own daughter without batting an eyelash. I wanted that hardness- that coldness, and hard as I tried, it was coming to me. I was doomed to be emotionally unstable for forever, and it sucked something awful.

So I waited for Wesley, preparing to channel all my hatred and frustration into him and hurt him a little.

I waited, naked thighs pressed to stained sheets for his arrival. And I waited for a long time. Perhaps he was scared of his fate and avoiding me. Or perhaps he was in a toilet stall with some unsuspecting girl, getting her heart pumping before dragging her out back, dazed and confused, to feed off of her and take her wallet. The prospect of additional money to add to our emergency fund was exciting, but not enough so to smother the anger. And, possibly, underneath that, the minutest bit of jealousy.

Or it was the knowing he was going to kill the girl part that took care of that particular emotion.

I sat until sunrise. Until I was so angry, contemplating handing him in to die at the hands of his murderous father. Until I heard the stupid street cleaners below, and early-morning moans through the walls. Until I took to glaring at the peeling paint of the ceiling, wondering why anyone would honeymoon in this god-forsaken shack in the first place. The couch screamed STDs.

Then I glared until the little cracks glared back, and I was standing barefoot on the bed, tearing at the ceiling, which continued until there was a seemingly sheepish knock at the door.

I glanced out the window, at the near-grey pavement, and contemplated leaving him out to burn.

But then I thought of his cute little cheeks, and realised with a jolt that he was my only actual friend. Lissa and Eddie and Adrian were all a completely different species now; one that hunted people like Wes and I. And despite not wanting to be weak and emotional and vulnerable to other evil, I wanted to keep Wes. Forever seemed as if it'd be a lot more tolerable with a friend, at least.

I sighed and jumped off the bed, revelling in the silence that followed. The lovers to the left were quiet, as were the arguing punks to the right. However heavy my strigoi body was, the crack of my weight hitting carpet would've put 'Busty Wendy's moans to shame.

There was another knock. Just one. I rolled my eyes and crossed the room, kicking clothes out of the way as I did so.

I yanked the door open, intending to greet him with my arms crossed over my chest and hip stuck out; the pose of a scorned woman, maybe. The moaning and arguing either side of the room began again, albeit quietly. I glanced down at my hip, checking it was just at the right angle. When I looked up again, a Russian asswipe was lounging in my room.

...:...

He was leaning against the wall, and Wesley was no where in sight. I wanted to ask where he was. I wanted not to talk to Dimitri.

"Roza," he said.

I glared, realising, unsurprisingly, that the role of the scorned woman came easily.

"Dimitri."

He stepped toward me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Where's Wes?" I asked, eyeing the open door and effectively ignoring his stupid face.

"He's otherwise occupied. I wanted to talk to you."

I gaped in disbelief. No wonder the bastard looked so smug. He'd pried my whereabouts from Wesley and, as it seemed, had said something to convince the idiot to let him be alone with me- for the next twelve hours, if I didn't get him out of the room in a matter of minutes. Asshole.

"I hate you," I growled, before proceeding to attempting to shove him out of the room. "So you need to leave, now."

He just laughed, at my expression or failed attempt I wasn't sure. He placed his hands over where mine lay, flat against his chest.

"I told you before," he said, backing me up against the wall. "I'm not finished with you yet."

I shivered, and finally looked up and up and into his dark eyes. He pressed me into the wall and then pressed himself against me, and I did n't pull away. I didn't want to.

He was like a furnace, and nose-to-chest with him, I was purely immortal for the first time since the change.

"You can't," he breathed, "tell me you don't want this anymore, Roza."

I exhaled, long and slow, and grazed my lips against his chest. Because I couldn't tell him, not now, cornered, feeling all off him- not enough of him. I couldn't even think of it, and I wouldn't.

He blinked down at me for what felt like hours, to the point where I didn't know if it was him or the sun that was making me burn. So when, finally, he lowered his head and smashed his lips against mine, I threw myself into the kiss with a lusty seventeen year old's abandon, and only the suggestion to move it to the bed.

...:...

_I wrote this just for you! Literally five minutes ago! Please still be with me, I'm sorry I've been gone this long._


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